


We Who Were

by PercyByssheShelley



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: F/F, Grand theft auto, Mild spoilers for S2M33 and 34, References to recreational drug use, and littering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 09:25:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PercyByssheShelley/pseuds/PercyByssheShelley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She swung a set of car keys around her finger, the gold lettering on one of the chains catching the light. Jesus Loves You. "I'm out of cigarettes. You coming or what?" </p>
<p>Maxine hesitated, leaning her shoulder against the fence. The cold of the metal sank straight through the fabric of her jumpsuit. </p>
<p>"Come on," Louise said, leaning in so she could keep her voice low. "There's got to be something in this big wide world that you want tonight."</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Who Were

Maxine sat at the back of the cluster of folding chairs set out for orientation. She was always the girl at the front in her classes, ears open and mind racing even as she affected boredom, an arm curled around her notebook so no one could see that her lazy scribbles were actually concise notes, not meaningless doodles. 

But she sat at the back today. Her family were one of the last to arrive, delayed by the battle that had broken out at the breakfast table when her mother urged her to be nice and try to make friends, the same speech she always gave before they packed her onto the bus for Camp Chippewa or band camp. Her father had snorted behind his newspaper and told her to keep her head down and not get attached to any of those people. 

Maxine had rolled her eyes and pretended to ignore them both, but she was inclined to believe her father. She wasn't one of these girls, she was Maxine Myers. So she smoked up a little, whatever. She wasn't a criminal. 

And yeah, maybe she had keyed that car too. But only because she hated that bitch Indira, with her stupid face and her tidy little denim skirts and her hair that swung down her back like something out of a fucking shampoo commercial. 

The row of chairs to her left rattled as a girl flung herself down and swung her feet up into the empty chair between them. Her jumpsuit was rolled up to show a pair of thick woollen tights, speckled with multi coloured stars, and she wore an oversized black jacket with patches on the arms proclaiming her love of a band Maxine had never heard of.   
(Twenty minutes into orientation the head counsellor confiscated it to prove the point that the uniform code would be strictly enforced. At the girl's plaintive cry of "'S cold though, innit?" it was replaced by a sweater with the camp's name printed across the bust. 

They all needed to look like they'd rolled off the same production line, fake prisoners in grey jumpsuits. Maxine was just grateful that her parents had chosen this camp, instead of the one down in Texas where every girl got a buzz cut and delousing. 

At least here the head counsellor reminded her more of a high school principal than a drill sergeant, jingling his 'Jesus Loves You' keychain as he droned on about life skills and discipline and how teenagers love and crave boundaries. 

The tights disappeared when she unrolled and tucked the cuffs of her trousers into her half-unlaced boots, but Maxine could picture them for the rest of her life, the way the tiny constellations had warped around the swell of her calf.) 

"Has anyone ever told you you look like Ace McShane?" she asked, leaning over into the other girl's space because fuck her dad, what did he know. 

The other girl rolled her eyes. "Tosser," she said, her eyes running slowly down to Maxine's feet and back up to her face. 

Maxine lay awake in her bunk that night, thinking about tiny multi coloured stars, and where that gaze had lingered, and how much she hated her. 

...

Her name was Louise Bailey, and she told a different story at every meal about what she had done to get sent here. She spent her life on one punishment detail after another, for getting caught slipping away to smoke, for wearing her jumpsuit unbuttoned to the red lace seam of her bra, for asking a visiting speaker from the local women's correctional facility if she had a prison wife. 

Every time Maxine glanced her way (which wasn't that often, not really, she was just bored and easily distracted, god drop it already) she was looking back at her with dark eyes, and her lips curled up whenever she caught her looking. 

She smelled of clove cigarettes and oranges. She pressed too close to Maxine when they passed each other in the narrow hallway between the laundry room and the bathrooms, much closer than she needed to, and the smell clung to Maxine's jumpsuit all day.

...

Maxine was walking the perimeter, one of the many healthy and engaging leisure time activities the camp had to offer. It was better than trying to play poker with the deck that had no aces, or joining the prayer circle, or sitting on one of the damn folding chairs listening to the other girls fight about what to watch in the tv room. 

Somebody whistled, and Maxine whipped her head around to see a silhouette leaning against the chain link fence. 

"Hey Melts," Louise whispered. "Come give me a boost. I can pull you up from the top if you want to come with." 

"Melts?" Maxine repeated. She looked over her shoulder, and saw that the counsellor on duty outside was busy breaking up a fight outside the mess hall. 

"MM. Melts in your mouth, not in your hand," Louise said, like that was obvious. She swung a set of car keys around her finger, the gold lettering on one of the chains catching the light. Jesus Loves You. "I'm out of cigarettes. You coming or what?" 

Maxine hesitated, leaning her shoulder against the fence. The cold of the metal sank straight through the fabric of her jumpsuit. 

"Come on," Louise said, leaning in so she could keep her voice low. "There's got to be something in this big wide world that you want tonight."

...

Louise pulled into the right lane long before they reached the turn off that would bring them back to the camp. Instead she turned onto a narrow side road, following the signs to a scenic lookout.

The parking lot was empty when they pulled in. The view over the railings was breathtaking, but Maxine supposed that no one else was interested in seeing it this late on a Tuesday night. Or Wednesday morning now. 

"You smoke?" Louise asked, flicking on her lighter. 

"Not those." 

"You trying to impress me?" Louise asked. 

"Are you saying I haven't?" Maxine asked, not looking away from where her lips pursed around the butt of the cigarette. "Sure. Let me try," she said after a moment. 

Louise took a long drag of the cigarette. Maxine reached out to grab it, but Louise whipped it away, leaning back into her seat so she could dangle it out the window. She dropped it with a careless flick of her fingers and then grabbed Maxine's wrist. 

Maxine let herself be pulled in. Louise cradled her cheek with her other hand, and stroked a thumb across her jaw until her lips parted. 

It was like there had been a timer counting down, the ticking driving her made for months. As Louise leaned in, so very slowly, and blew the smoke into her mouth, it began to chime. 

Maxine bridged the gap between them. Louise giggled into her mouth and clasped a hand to the back of her head to drag her in deeper. 

...

"Did you meet anyone nice?" her mother asked, buckling her seatbelt. 

She saw her father roll his eyes in the rear view mirror. They were still in the middle of the same argument, like she had just stepped out for air instead of spending three months away. 

"No," she said. She sank down in her seat, making herself comfortable to sleep the rest of the way home, and tucked her chin into a jumpsuit that still smelled of clove cigarettes and oranges.

**Author's Note:**

> Regarding the camp they're at: in the actual audio, Maxine describes it as a place for rich parents to send their troubled kids, and says that she got sent there for drug issues and shoplifting. But the mission details on ZombieLink refer to it as a sexuality correction camp. 
> 
> I went with the former on the grounds that a) Information from the game > information from the supplementary materials and b) I was already a thousand words into a story based on the assumption it was a disciplinary camp when I noticed that.


End file.
